Walking on the moon: New Paltz man part of '69 lunar landing team

Sunday

NEW PALTZ — They called it "the tissue-paper spacecraft." Talk to Lou Cariola and you'll find out why, why he thinks what happened July 20, 1969, was nothing less than a miracle.

NEW PALTZ — They called it "the tissue-paper spacecraft." Talk to Lou Cariola and you'll find out why, why he thinks what happened July 20, 1969, was nothing less than a miracle.

Cariola's a self-described "Brooklyn kid" who's still trim and looks younger than his 71 years. He was a so-so high school student whose father insisted he attend college and not follow him into sales. Lou Cariola was 21 when he took his love of physics to Grumman Aerospace Corp. in Long Island, where he became a key member of the team that built the Apollo Lunar Lander.

Cariola still marvels at the audacity President John Kennedy displayed when he promised the United States would put a man on the moon by 1970. The country appeared to be far behind the Soviet Union in what was fast becoming known as a "space race" between the two superpowers.

Cariola's voice colors with awe when he explains the outrageousness of the task the president had set for the thousands of men and women who eventually took part in the Apollo program.

"You have to remember the lunar lander was the only true spacecraft," he said. "It wasn't designed for atmospheric travel."

Cariola's job was critical, though he's hesitant to take any more credit than being one member of a teams that numbered in the thousands. He had to make sure all the materials used in the lander were insulated from the extreme cold of space, as well as the extreme heat the lander would endure in the face of the sun.

"It had to withstand minus-250 degree cold in space and 250 (degrees) of heat when it landed and the moon was facing the sun," he said.

Here's where Cariola takes out a small sheet of what looks like aluminum foil. He holds it in front of his face, balanced across the tips of his fingers, then drops his hand. The sheet floats in the air unsupported, lighter than a feather.

Out of such gossamer components did Cariola and his team fashion the insulation that would make good Kennedy's promise to the world and safely deliver two human beings to the surface of the moon.

On July 20, 1969, Cariola watched the lunar landing "just like everyone else," on TV, with CBS news anchor Walter Cronkite narrating the story, tears of wonder and relief in his eyes.

Cronkite wasn't alone in feeling that way.

"I was worried. I prayed. And then I cried," Cariola said last week.

Unlike Cronkite and everyone else in the country, Cariola had something very particular to worry and pray about after the landing: About 30 days before the launch, he'd been summoned to Cape Kennedy. NASA had refused to sign off on the adequacy of the lander's rendezvous radar antenna. It was up to Cariola to inspect the unit and determine its adequacy.

Cariola was whisked up the gantry alongside the 36-story Saturn V rocket. Cariola was poised at its apex. He knew only too well the possible consequences of a bad call on his part. Without the radar antenna, the lander would be unable to return to the orbiting command module that would bring Apollo's three astronauts home.

Daunting though the task was, Cariola smiles as he recounts that day. He'd been accompanied up the gantry by a NASA official who reminded him that if he couldn't vouch for it, the mission would be scrubbed for several weeks.

"It was just what I needed to hear," he said, with a roll of his eyes.

He had to wait more than a month to see his prayers answered.

Cariola stayed with Grumman for only six years before embarking on a peripatetic career that's spanned painting and sculpture, teaching at local colleges and prisons and finally becoming assistant warden at Shawangunk Correctional Facility.

These are the days when Cariola's memories go back to those days he spent voluntarily cooped up in a "clean room," testing materials whose lifesaving qualities helped put men on the moon and brought them home.

"It really was a miracle," he said. "Everything was handmade. Thousands of people from across the country did their best to make it a success. And it worked! It all came together."

jhorrigan@th-record.com

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